


I Swear Unto The Maker

by AmerValk



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Drabble, F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 05:43:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13241664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmerValk/pseuds/AmerValk
Summary: This fic is a quick and angst-ridden one shot of how Cullen Rutherford deals with the knowledge that his inquisitor may die so soon after their happily-ever-after. If it seems choppy just remember that memory is not the perfect indicator of an event and humans are far from historians. This is more a rendering of thoughts than an explicit translation. Enjoy!





	I Swear Unto The Maker

For the most brief and transcendent moment Cullen Rutherford was happy in Orlais of all places. At times, he wondered if the blight was preferable. Being a Ferelden, Orlais was the antithesis of common sense and reason. Consisting entirely of disapproving scowls concealed beneath masks and daggers underneath ornate bodices. But How had Cullen managed to put all this together? The gown had not been easy to procure without her noticing, Vivienne was ever obliging and managed to distract her with a much deserved spa treatment. Even Sera employed her greatest Jennies to keep Kaith from observing as he prepared the proposal. It was meant to be more profound, but it was pure chance that he found the mabari in the courtyard where he intended to propose. The rest came organically. The words rolled of his tongue, “Marry Me.” He spoke softly at first, nervous at the potential of her refusal. As always, Cullen was unnecessarily anxious. And it was all so he could speak the words that came as naturally as breathing,

“I swear unto the maker and the Holy Andraste to love this woman for the rest of my days.” 

Cullen looked into Kaith’s dark brown eyes and as he held Kaith’s hands and swore fealty to the most important vows of his life.She was a vision of perfection in her white gown. The ivory silk was embroidered with golden thread. Her caramel skin contrasted with the glistening fabric that shimmered beneath the boughs of the small courtyard. She was breathless as he uttered the vows, astonished that this was even happening. He could only enjoy the sight of Kaith’s flushed cheeks, tinted a delicate pink against her dark skin until they sealed their oath with a kiss. Her lips were plump and soft against his as they brushed together. While this was not the first embrace they shared, it washed over Cullen like a dream realized. It was sloppy, wet, and tempting as he pulled her closer. He felt one thousand different urges. He wanted to carry her all the way back to Ferelden, back to the pond near Honnleath where they both felt free. As they both seperated, short of breath and winded she leaned into his forehead and smiled, meeting his eyes. She was the sum of his prayers answered by Andraste herself as they stood in the eaves of the Maker’s light, together. Cullen wanted to remember this exact moment forever, when things finally seemed to be going their way. ‘But fate makes fools of us all,’ Cullen growled, this final happy memory corrupted by the knowledge it would be the last.

He had the burden of being both a general and her husband. Cullen still felt the warmth of her body within his arms, even as she left for the Eluvian once more. This time, she would not come back and it tore him into pieces. Just as the anchor stole Kaith’s life from her body with each pulsing contraction. He clenched his fists in a grief stricken rage. “It’s not fair,” Cullen whispered as he stood, paralyzed by the knowledge that their life was over and there was nothing he could do stop the anchor from destroying her. He resented the looks of pity from Josephine and Lelina, their sympathy would drown him. Cullen wanted action. He wanted to save Kaith and tear that blasted anchor from her hand.

“Commander?” he barely heard Josephine speak as he walked out of the room in long, purposeful steps. Even if he had no plan, there must be something he could do. Cullen paid no attention to the swift and harried hand signals between the spymaster and the diplomat. He would wait for Kaith, if it was the least he could do then he would stand guard. Josephine followed him as Leliana disappeared into the shadows. The guards barely noted as he opened the door with fury and waited in the small library. The smallest second sounded in his chest like myriad of heart beats. The facade was falling, his strength was leaving his muscles with each labored breath as he fell to his knees in a desperate prayer. All he could manage was a strained sob as his chest tightened with fear and expectation. This was worse than any panic attack and withdrawal symptom as he unraveled and hot tears spilled from his eyes. His faith was tested and shattered, breaking like shards of a glass window, struck by a rock.


End file.
